Delirious Lovely
by akaiiko
Summary: The five times Zuko is too stupid to kiss her, and the one time he's intelligent. Sort of. -Zutara; Post Series; giftfic for MuslimBarbie-
1. in the sunset

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender. The plot idea of 'five times Zuko is stupid and one time he isn't' is courtesy of Inu Star Angel.

**Notes:** I tried to make it as fluffy as I could stomach. Save for confessions of undying love and angels singing a hallelujah chorus, I think I suceeded. This is for Inu Star Angel, who is an angel, or a doll, or a peach, or whatever endearment she would prefer to be called that properly encompasses her awesomeness.

**Chap:** 1/6

* * *

_the time he doesn't kiss her in the sunset_

* * *

Under the water, it is calm and relatively quiet. And salty. Zuko contemplates this slowly and methodically. He has nothing better to do. Until, of course, Katara's voice filters down through the water. "Give up?" she asks, the words garbled by the barrier between them.

He shrugs under her hands. It would be easy enough to fight his way up and out of the dunk she has him in. But that might prompt her to start bending, a fearsome prospect indeed.

Thankfully she seems to decide that he has suffered enough. She releases her tight grip on his shoulders and allows him to push his head up for glorious, glorious oxygen. "I can't believe you said that I love Aang," she says, smacking his head lightly. "I don't."

"You kissed him at Ba Sing Se." He wonders if she can hear the bitter edge to his words.

"I sort of had to," she says in a very matter-of-fact way. "He loved me. It was my duty."

"The prize he gets for saving the world?" Zuko guesses. He loves Aang like a brother, but he knows the younger boy better than a brother.

She shrugs noncommitally and walks out of the water to flop gracelessly on the beach. She is on her back, staring listlessly at the sky and contemplating something that clearly still disturbs her even two years later. Her dark skin shines with wetness and salt.

Zuko stands and follows her path slowly, muscles sore from a day of unusual exercise (he was not meant for this "yoga" that Katara adores so) and the recent enforced no-breathing. When he reaches her, he flops down too.

He lays on his stomach with his head turned toward her, cheek pillowed in the sand. The sand is rough underneath him, but it is fine enough that it's not painful. It shifts easily with his every breath. Feeling content, he drapes a lazy (and if anyone asks, completely platonic) arm over her waist.

Katara lets out a loud sigh. He waits. "I guess," she finally says to the sky.

"Did you ever want him?" he says. Sand gets in his mouth and he hurriedly spits it out.

"Want him? What do you mean?"

"I mean…was there ever a time when you looked at him and you really liked him as more than a son?"

She closes her eyes. He spends the next few minutes trying futilely to get the taste of salt and sand out of his mouth.

"Once," she tells him. "We were here, in the Fire Nation. He threw a dance party for some kids from this school. He asked me to dance. He looked so handsome, so grown up. For a minute I just…forgot. I forgot everything. He treated me like he wanted me to like him, like he didn't expect me to just be there. I thought that…maybe it wouldn't be so bad. Being with him."

"What happened?"

"To that thought?" She laughs and surprisingly there is no bitterness in it. "It drifted away. I went back to being essentially invisible. Expected to be there, waiting for him when he found his destiny. I didn't mind. Couldn't, really."

He waits. She's not done yet. He can tell by the way her breath keeps hitching painfully, how the skin under his arm is quivering like her muscles are struggling to relax. Desperately he wants to her calm down, or talk, or simply do something other than act like she is going to cry. It takes so long for her to start again that he falls asleep to the roll of waves and the feel of her skin.

Zuko wakes up almost two hours later, groggy and bleary and vaugely aware that his arm is slung over sand rather than Katara. This fact, more than anything else, pisses him off. He gets up, shakes out the pins and needles, and starts following her footprints down the beach.

When he finds her, Katara is lolling about in the sand. It sticks golden and grainy to her skin. The light glimmers off her tangled hair. She looks like a child, really. The anger predictably eases, so he joins her and rolls around in the sand under her approving stare. But then he gets sand in uncomfortble places and decides it's high time to sit up and start getting all the grains off him. "Life," she says importantly, even though they both know that whatever is about to come out of her mouth is decidedly unimportant, "is not complete unless you have sand in places you didn't even know existed."

Zuko lets out a startled bark of laughter. He does that around her a lot, he's noticed. It's involuntary and sort of annoying. He tries to cover up his slight discomfort by brushing off the copious ammounts of sand that have stuck to his own skin.

She laughs at him and reaches out to brush some from his back. Shivers run down his spine at the feel of her lightly callused fingertips. The hand stills, then flattens against the small of his back. "Zuko?" she questions, voice high and inquisitive and fear-inducing because holy Agni it's her 'I just figured something out' tone.

"Yes?" he says back very carefully. Very, very carefully.

"We're on a beach."

He blinks and looks around. Lo and behold, yes, they _are_ on a beach. A rather nice beach, with aforementioned golden sand and warm blue waters and waving palm trees and sea shells. An Ember Island beach, to be exact. Abandoned for a giant bonfire on the other side of the island that, technically, both of them are supposed to be at too. But they're here instead, rolling in the sand and soaking up the last rays of the sun. So what is he supposed to say to her?

"The sun is setting," she prompts. She gives him a significant look.

"Yeah?" he says. He gives her his own significant look, though this one is more of a 'and-your-point-is?' significant as opposed to a 'you-are-too-thick-to-live' significant.

"We're _alone_." Zuko raises his one eyebrow. "On a _beach_. With the _sun setting._" Katara is clearly getting very frustrated, but he's really not sure why.

"I get that," he says.

"Well then," she growls a little, "_why_ aren't you _doing _anything?"

What exactly is he supposed to do? "Uh, Katara, are you okay? Did you drink too much salt water earlier?"

She lets out a howl and throws herself into a sitting position. "Zuko. You're so _stupid_." Then she's on her feet and stomping away. The stomping away doesn't mean her irritated ranting s over. Far from it. And Zuko is chasing her down the beach trying to apologize (it is futile and he knows it) which means he hears every confusing word. "―the beach for Tui's sake. The _beach_. And the _sunset_. You are such an ostrich horse!"


	2. when she's laughing

**Disclaimer: **I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

**Notes:** Hehe. Part de deux. Wooo…this took forever to get out. I owe InuStar soooo bad, because she's so nice and sweet and stuff and I am faaaaailing at this request. I'm sorry, InuStar, I'm sooooorry! In other news, this probably puts a good deal of the story pacing to sh!t. Because, um, yeah, I sort of have issues keeping a certain tone throughout things. **twitches**

(In case anyone's wondering, this 'theme' of when he doesn't kiss her refers to that bizarre romantic cliché where someone is laughing and the love interest just sort of lunges over to kiss them because the laughing person looks "like so OMFG kawaii!!1!". It happens. Trust me. Now subverted by Zuko's stupidity! Yay!)

**Chap:** 2/6

* * *

**year two**

_the time he doesn't kiss her when she's laughing_

* * *

Sokka is wailing mournfully about his shoes. The wet sand has effectively ruined the fur creations, and the continued rain isn't helping matters. Perhaps Sokka is right to mourn, for the slippers will never be the same. On the other hand, it's beyond Zuko that Sokka could put so much love into a pair of slippers. Even furry ones. Scratch that, especially furry ones. Stupid thing are made of the very rabaroo fur that Zuko is desperately allergic to.

He sneezes again and thanks Agni that he hasn't broken out into hives. (Yet.)

Sokka shoves the ruined slippers into Zuko's face, all the while making wheezing, choking sounds and gaping like a fish. It's a sight to behold, Sokka in the throes of passionate mourning and Zuko on the verge of an allergy-induced asthma attack. To add to it all Aang is cackling like a little girl. It's either hilariously funny or ridiculously pathetic. Probably both.

So Katara closes her eyes and leans back in her luxurious chair. It's red velvet and dark mahogany, beautifully crafted by some great master. Right now all she really cares about is the fact that it's comfortable. Very, very comfortable. Nap-worthy, if she really wants to get down to it.

She listens to the sneezing, wailing, giggling cacophony of the men in her life. It passes in one ear and out the other, ignored with the skill of a mother who is used to chaos. The analogy is close enough when it comes to this bunch. And she is soothed by their unrelenting chaos as much as she is soothed by the pulsing, pounding rain outside.

Time passes, slow and smooth as the tide. Katara drifts in and out of sleep, cuddled into stiff velvet over too-plush duck-goose down. The rain stops, starts again, then stops again. The boys disperse, save for one who looks at her with warm honey eyes.

Zuko runs a hand through his hair, shoving and catching on strands the color of midnight. He should leave, or wake her, or drape a blanket over her, or _something_. Something other than stare at her as if he has some innate right. (Which he pretty much _doesn't_.)

But he can't be bothered, because Katara is sitting on a chair and looking like she damn well belongs there amidst the endless sea of reds and browns and golds instead of trussed up in the cool colors of her homeland. So he stares and stares and stares, regardless of whether or not he has any sort of right to.

More time passes, though it's difficult to tell just how much with the sky as dark as it is. Zuko gets stiff from sitting in one position on a hard wooden floor, so he gets up and manages to seat himself _just so_ on her chair. It's an uncomfortable position until she snuggles up and into him, which means he can slump just a little.

(It's still uncomfortable, but hey, lapful of Katara. Who exactly is going to complain? Certainly not Zuko.)

Zuko can't properly stare at her anymore, which is vaguely annoying. He entertains himself instead with wrapping his fingers around locks of her hair. Not exactly combing, or grooming, like Suki is so fond of doing to Sokka. More playing, except it's not even quite that.

Her hair is thick and abundant and quite frankly rather bushy. It gets static when the air isn't humid enough, which is probably why she loves Ember Island because it's impossible for it not to be humid here. Which means it's not full of static now, even though it is thick and abundant and bushy. It's not really soft, not in the way of fur or silk, but it does have a pleasant slid to it.

She's got the perfect hair to tangle fingers in and he takes full advantage of that fact. He keeps taking advantage of it even when she starts waking up, because he knows that she knows that he knows (and isn't that a mouthful?) that she has the perfect hair for finger tangling, so it's not like she'll really think anything of it.

Except honestly, she sort of does. Katara wakes up to heat that she immediately knows is Zuko's, to fingers in her hair that she immediately knows are Zuko's, to that quiet, purring feeling that only happens when she's with Zuko. In the bleary haze that surrounds waking up in such an environment, she rather thinks that she could be happy forever with him.

She thinks this even as Zuko thinks that it's lucky that her hair is so perfect, because it gives him a fine excuse for something he'd have been doing even without the perfection of her hair.

(They operate on very different planes, for being soul mates.)

"I…" he says. Then he stops, and silently berates himself. Because that one little word was totally uncalled for. They were getting along in silence just fine before he opened his big mouth. Agni above, and he calls himself intelligent.

But she's awake enough now to sort-of elbow him in the stomach, not hard enough to truly hurt but not gentle enough to be anything other than a prodding gesture. "Yeah?" she says, just in case he might have misinterpreted that oh-so-subtle elbowing.

"Nothing," he says. Which, not matter what she might think, is the absolute honest to Agni truth.

Of course, she doesn't believe him. "It's not nothing," she says. She elbows him again, mostly just for the hell of it. (Poor Zuko.)

"It just sort of…_came out_," he says.

She rolls her eyes even though she knows he can't see. "I don't care if it started as nothing," she says imperiously, "it is now most definitely something."

"That doesn't make any sense," he says.

They both fall silent. Him to cheer at his something-of-a-victory, her to stew on what to say next that will crush his something-of-a-victory into a cheap-win-that-meant-nothing-ha-ha-loser. When a good solid minute and a half passes without either of them saying anything, or in Katara's case thinking of something properly brilliant, Zuko says:

"I'm glad Sokka's slippers didn't make me break out in hives. That would have been rough."

(When Zuko says things like this, there are a variety of reactions. Some, such as his uncle, merely sigh and shake their head or maybe laugh a little. Some, such as Sokka, or Toph, realize it for what it is and laugh. Some, such as Aang, think he's being serious and attempt to be comforting even while they snort. And some…some are driven to fits of hysteria. Guess which category Katara falls into?)

Zuko had been expecting her mad, cackling laughter. He really had. He just hadn't been anticipating quite how _uncomfortable_ her squirming, panting frame atop his would be. Agni hates him, Katara schemes against him, and all things considered Zuko is contemplating ritual suicide.

He thinks of naked, wrinkled Fire Sages dancing on a glacier while Mai sings the Fire Nation anthem for a whole sixteen minutes. How Katara is not in serious pain by the end of those sixteen minutes, he knows not. In fact, he sort of doesn't want to know.

But she stops laughing, eventually. She is still gasping and panting and generally sounding rather obscene, but she's not writhing anymore so he cautiously lets the naked Fire Sages go. Mai singing should be enough to keep away any naughty thoughts.

(He should have been less concerned with Mai's scratchy, monotone voice and more concerned with the girl currently sitting on his lap and giving him a slightly accusing look.)

"Zuko," she says. She still sounds sort of breathy, but all things considered she's returned to a normal breathing rate with remarkable efficiency. "Do you think I look pretty when I laugh?"

And what, exactly, is up with _that_? Zuko thinks that exact sentence, then shrugs it off as Katara being a girl. From what he can tell, Katara has a secret desire to appear gorgeous at all times. He hasn't asked her about this (rather wisely) but he thinks it nonetheless.

"Yes," he answers. "You look very pretty when you laugh." A brilliant red flush is covering his cheeks, red enough to rival the skin of his scar.

"Oh," she says, sounding put out. "Then why didn't…" she begins, then stops. With a move that would put a bearded cat to shame, she flips her body so that she is facing him. He's not entirely sure how she managed it, but manage it she did. She begins again. "Why didn't you…well, why?"

The question is about as baffling as her acrobatics. He prays to Agni before remembering that Agni hates him. He briefly contemplates finding a new deity, one who might be a little more sympathetic. Or at least less evil.

His ponderings on religion are cut short when she pokes him. Jabs him, more like, with one of her long, elegant fingers tipped with a thankfully blunt nail. "Well?" she says expectantly. He gets the horrible feeling that if she could put her hands on her hips and tap her foot, she would.

"Um…" he says eloquently.

Katara gives him a long suffering look.


	3. in the rain

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

**Notes:** I swear to God, I will finish this one day. Even if I only post a chapter every two months. I will finish it. I WILL! **burning power of youth** This chapter is kissing in the rain (or, on occasion, other manners of precipitation) which is probably one of the most overused things in movies, ever. And I hate it, because people don't look better when they're dripping wet. (Except Taylor Lautner. Wet Taylor Lautner is sex on a stick. Actually, any Taylor Lautner is sex on a stick.) Plus, COLDS. Holy crap, colds.

**Chap: **3/6

**

* * *

**

_the time he doesn't kiss her in the rain_

* * *

It's the very end of monsoon season on Ember Island. All that's really left of the destructive weeks is a constant drizzle. This is actually more depressing than the monsoons themselves, and everybody knows it. Even Ty Lee, who came this year to see her old friends and had been in irrepressible spirits, was lessened by the miserable weather.

Zuko is pretty unperturbed by the rain. Because Katara likes being constantly inundated with her element, and Zuko is so stupidly in love, he can't bring himself to be grumpy. (Someday, he tells himself, he will find a way to get grumpy at things he should be grumpy at but isn't because Katara likes them. Someday. Maybe.)

Now, it would seem that, as Zuko and Katara are the only people who don't really mind the rain, everybody would be happily cooped up inside the obnoxiously large Summer Palace. (Or, if not happily cooped up, at least contentedly cooped up.) They aren't.

In fact, the entire 'Gaang' is out on the beach, in the drizzle, looking generally miserable and wondering how exactly they were coerced into this outing. It wasn't as if Katara or Zuko had been particularly intimidating (for once) or that either of the aforementioned parties had laid a guilt trip on the rest of the group. No, there really wasn't a single sane explanation.

Which, probably, is why about ten minutes later, Sokka and Suki run off to Agni knows where to do Agni knows what. And, about three minutes after that, Ty Lee disappears for "acrobatics training." And, about fourteen minutes after _that_, Toph unceremoniously drags Aang off toward the Summer Palace.

The drizzle, Katara, Zuko, and a hell of a lot of sand is all that's left.

"So," Zuko says.

"I'm sorry," Katara blurts out. Zuko glances at her and is surprised to see the tears that are gathering rapidly in the corner of her eyes. "It was a stupid idea, I know. I mean, it's raining for Yue's sake. But I was so sick of the stupid palace and…"

He slings an arm around her shoulders and pulls her to his chest. It's an embrace caught between friendly and romantic, but he's not focusing on the implications of his limb placement right now. He's more thinking about how sad she looks, and how he wants her to smile instead, and how exactly he's going to manage turning that frown upside down, and how exactly she got him so whipped. "It is a stupid idea, but I like it anyway," he says.

She closes her eyes tightly and the big swamp crocodile tears that were threatening to overflow really do overflow. Which, of course, sends Zuko into something only barely short of a full on panic attack.

His arms tighten around her until she's practically crushed to him. He opens his mouth to say something comforting before realizing, sort of belatedly, that he's really no good at comforting. Sort of like the obscure wisdom gene, the comforting gene only seemed to grace Uncle and Mother. Then he berates himself, because _why_ is he contemplating genetics when Katara is _crying_? Agni above.

"I'm sorry," he says.

Miraculously, she stops crying. Well, sort of. And mostly so she can slap his chest in a rather painful manner. "Stupid," she says. "Why are you always so nice? It was a stupid idea, and you don't like rain, and I'm cold, and my nose hurts from being stuffy."

(Maybe, he thinks, it's That Time. Then again, maybe she's just mad at him.)

"Sorry," he says again. "Well, we can try for another picnic this weekend. Or whenever the sun decides to show. Okay?"

She's still sniffling, and she smacks his chest a bit half heartedly again, but there is a genuine smile tugging at her lips. "Okay," she says finally. She reaches her hand up to roughly rub the tears off her cheeks and wipe at her nose. It succeeds for the most part. "Zuko," she says suddenly, mid nose wipe, "have you ever read a romance scroll?"

Zuko squints at her. He is, of course, not quite sure if he heard that right. But if he says 'Come again?' she'll probably hit him again. Or something. So he just says, "No." Like that. Because the explanation of how he's never read one because he spent much of his formative years convinced that because Azula adored them they could only be evil, evil, _evil_ things is the sort of explanation that would take way too long to, well, explain.

"Why not?" she says, squinting right back at him.

"It's not manly," he says.

"Since when have you cared about manly? You did the dragon dance for Yue's sake. You did the dragon dance and found the meaning of life while surround by a rainbow fire. Those don't scream manly pride," she says.

Damn but she has him there.

"Aang," he says. Because _everything_ in the universe can be explained away by that one word.

The frown she directs at him says:

Damn but he has her there.

"Still. None? Not a single, measly romance scroll in your entire life?"

"No."

That's when she starts to look extraordinarily thoughtful. "Are you sure?"

"Very."

The thoughtful look deepens. Someone passing by might take the expression as that of a philosopher in very deep thought. Not that anyone would be passing by, as the rain had been steadily increasing from a drizzle to fully fledged rain.

"That explains a lot of things, you know?" she says.

Zuko doesn't, in fact, know what that explains. But he does know that they should probably start heading back toward the Summer Palace, because the sky doesn't look very promising of breaking into sunshine. He's about to mention that when she suddenly lights up and starts dragging him toward the Palace.

"So," she says, still dragging him along, "I think it's time that we broaden your literary horizons. Because this is just not right for you to have never read a romance scroll in your whole entire life. Just wrong."

"Um," he says. His wrist is sort of starting to hurt from the bizarre angle she's holding it at. He's not going to say it though, because that would make him a wuss. Zuko is not a wuss. (Except when it comes to Toph, because Toph can kick his ass and make it look like an accident. Damn blind women.)

"Exactly. How are you supposed to woo when you've never read a romance scroll?"

"Um."

"I mean, Mai was one thing, because she was probably the most unromantic being ever. Well, sort of. She did, after all, appreciate Haru's poetry, and the giant statue. But. She told me about the stuff you guys did together."

A horrified squeak catches in Zuko's throat. Dear Agni.

"I mean, picnics in the sunset is all well and good. But you're supposed to appreciate the sunset while making out, not complain about the color orange. And there Mai and I were, thinking that you were just sort of stupid. Actually, I was the only one who thought that. But it turns out, you were just oblivious!"

The horrified squeak is still stuck in Zuko's throat. It pretty much blocks all of his possible attempts at communication. Not that he would know what to say in a case like this. Not that there's really much to say.

They reach the grand front veranda of the Summer Palace just as Katara finishes her tirade about Zuko's apparent obliviousness. He's expecting her to continue dragging him up the steps and presumably to the dusty old library to pour over some stupid romance scrolls. But she doesn't. She stops. Just like that.

"Zuko," she says. Her hand (finally) lets go of his (poor, abused) wrist as she turns around to face him. They are just barely out of reach of the overhanging roof, so the rain is still pouring down on top of them.

In that moment, she really looks like a drowned rat monkey. Her hair is plastered to her head and her face and her neck and her shoulders and her back. It's a dark waterlogged color that's almost black, and it's pretty bedraggled looking. Her eyes are too big, her face is dripping rain water, and her clothing is just as soaked as the rest of her.

He's not attracted to her, right now. He feels no particular desire to kiss her, or hold her tightly to his chest, or throw her on the sand and make love with her. She doesn't look more beautiful for the rain.

(A surprising thought.)

"Katara," he says. Quietly, because he's trying to figure out what to say next. "Katara, you…you look like a drowned rat monkey." Which was _stupid_, he realizes about two seconds after he says it.

She looks at him a little bit blankly before flushing a dull red. "Oh."

The flush doesn't make her attractive either. It looks odd against her dark caramel skin. Not ugly, per say, but definitely odd.

"Hmm," he says.

Her blush darkens. (It still looks odd.) "In the romance scrolls, the hero always find the heroine most attractive when she's wet," she says boldly. "Especially when it's raining." She peers up at him through her ungodly thick lashes and pouts out her lower lip in a probably-suppose-to-be-tempting manner.

Zuko gets the distinct impression she's trying to tell him something. He's just not entirely sure what that is. "That's nice," he says distractedly.

She blinks at him. Not a little disbelievingly she says, "Zuko, did you really just ignore that?"

"I didn't ignore it," he says defensively, "I just don't get it. I mean, what's so great about you looking like a drowned rat monkey?" Her face turns utterly thunderous. He doesn't particularly notice. He's figured out why he doesn't feel attracted to her like this. "It doesn't suit you. You look like you're some sort of heartbroken, vulnerable princess. And besides, at this rate you're going to catch a terrible cold."

When he refocuses on her face, she looks decidedly amused. "I thought I looked like a drowned rat monkey, not a princess," she says lightly.

"Both," he says semi-diplomatically. "Now, let's go inside before you catch that terrible cold I was talking about."

Katara rolls her eyes, and tells him that she's going to make him read romance scrolls, and launches into a long winded explanation about how Waterbenders don't get _colds_ (she's sneezing because she has a tickle in her throat, damnit). But she also laces her fingers through his as they walk into the Summer Palace, so it's okay.

year three


	4. when they argue

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar: the Last Airbender.

**Notes:** The opening passages are my own creation, but are heavily (heavily heavily heavily) inspired by romance novels I have actually read. Especially the toes. :D BTW, I hope this is still living up to your expectations, Angel!

**Chapter:** 4/6

* * *

**year four**

_the time he doesn't kiss her when they argue_

* * *

"_Oh, Captain Doom!" Kiya moaned throatily. "Your male virileness is so virile!" She moaned again, her voice husky but still feminine with passion and lust. It was such an enrapturing sound. She then leaned forward to kiss his toes again, her sexy breath puffing against his sensitive flesh._

_Captain Doom could not contain himself and he moaned in rapture as she tenderly mouthed his black furred foot digits…_

Zuko chokes.

No, really, he chokes.

In fact, he spends a good thirty seconds attempting to hack the saliva back out of his wind pipe. By the time he's finished hacking and choking and everything, his eyes are watering and his lungs are burning. Plus, his brain is scarred forever.

No, really, forever.

And he really, really wants to start crying and hide behind his mother's skirts like he did when he was five and could still get away with that sort of thing. Fuck that, he'd settle right now for crying and hiding behind Katara's skirts, social etiquette be damned.

However, Katara is passed out (and drooling) on the historical epic that she had started reading about two hours ago. He's not that interested in waking her up, because that could mean facing her wrath. Also, she probably wouldn't let him hide behind her skirts. Seeing as how he's twenty and she's eighteen and they're really, seriously too old for that sort of thing.

So he just rolls the romance scroll back up and pushes it as far away as he can manage. As it turns out, "as far away as he can manage" is actually over the edge of the table. It falls to the thickly carpeted floor with a very, very quiet 'thud' that is almost lost in the constant pounding of the rain outside.

Katara doesn't even flinch, so he guesses that she didn't hear. Or if she did, it wasn't enough to startle her out of dreamland.

He watches her for a few minutes. Just watches. She's kind of beautiful when she's sleeping. Not in the traditional pretty way she is when she's awake. Drool is hardly the sort of thing that the world would rhapsodize about. But she's innocent, and content, and there's a sort of sweetness in her expression that makes him feel not just a little warm inside.

Eventually he drops his head until his chin hits the edge of the table. It's really, really awkward. But he's too tired to care.

"You're gonna give yourself a neck crick like that. I'm not gonna be happy," comes Katara's muttered declaration.

Zuko sighs and sits up properly. He rolls his neck a little and winces as the bones creak in protest. So, maybe, Katara had a point. Maybe.

"Good boy," she mutters again, still not lifting her head off the historical epic. "So, did you finish that romance scroll?"

A shiver trembles down Zuko's spine at the thought of the accursed romance scroll. "No," he says in his Quiet-Scared-Little-Boy voice.

She picks her head up from the table at that. There's a darkly amused look on her face which almost makes Zuko wonder if she had picked out that romance scroll on purpose, just to scar him for life. "I'm not surprised," she says, and the dark amusement carries into her tone too.

He looks at her accusingly. "Why did you do that to me?" he asks, still in his Quiet-Scared-Little-Boy voice.

She has the decency to look at least a little ashamed. "Well, you hadn't been liking the other romance scrolls. I had to show you that they were the better choices. That there were worse things in the world.."

"Katara, you gave me one were the woman moans 'Captain Doom' every five seconds and thinks that mouthing his toes is an acceptable form of foreplay!" Zuko yelps. Another shiver runs down his spine at the thought. "One were several feet were taken up by the description of Captain Doom's calves! One were the woman decides to catalogue her hat boxes! Don't you think that's just a little overboard?" Zuko is just a little bit hysterical by the end. Fuck that, he's definitely hysterical by the end.

There's the definite beginning of a pout on her lips. "So? Don't you admit now that the one's that I've made you read before now are much better than you gave me credit for?"

"No," he says.

"What? Why not?" she asks.

"Because, romance scrolls are not romantic. This just proves it."

She's scowling now. Forget a cute little pout. Katara is angry. Or at least irritated. And Katara doesn't _do_ cuteness when she's angry. She does Pretty Damn Intimidating. "They are _to_ romantic, Zuko," she snaps. Oh yeah, Pretty Damn Intimidating.

"How so?" he asks. Partially because he's curious, and partially because if she's ranting then she can't strangle him.

"Well…" she starts. "Well…uh…they…uh…" A normal person would adopt a look of confusion as they stuttered their way through this. Katara doesn't, because Katara has never been the epitome of normal. Ever. Seriously. So instead of looking confused, Katara looks even angrier that she can't find the words to articulate her thoughts on the romantic nature of romance novels. (Zuko is so very, very screwed.)

"Yes?" he prods.

Her scowl deepens. "Romance scrolls are romantic because the hero would do anything for the heroine, and he thinks she's incredibly beautiful no matter what, and he marries her, and he ravishes her in interesting places, and he protects her from evil, and he _kisses_ her instead of being a thrice damned _moron_." Her voice had risen steadily throughout her speech, and the last bit was said at a shout.

Zuko blinks. "Okay then. I guess."

But Katara isn't satisfied. Spirits no. She's just getting started. As shown when she narrows her eyes and jabs a finger in his direction. "Unlike you, romance scroll heroes are _romantic_. You're not romantic. You don't even know the meaning of romance. _You are romance __**retarded**_."

"I am not," he yells, standing up. His temper fuse is longer than it used to be, but it's just as easy to light. "Just because I think your romance scrolls are stupid doesn't mean I'm not romantic."

She stands up too, slamming her palms down on the table for good measure. "Oh yeah? Well then how do you describe the fact that _Mai_ made the first move?"

"I never saw her like _that_ until she had her tongue shoved halfway down my throat," he says defensively. "But what about you, little miss perfect. What have _you_ ever done that's romantic? I may not be a romance scroll hero, thank Agni, but you most certainly aren't anywhere _near_ a romance scroll heroine."

"What?" she shrieks. Her eyes widen, then narrow again with outrage. "Why not?"

"Well for one thing, a romance heroine wouldn't _argue_ about something this stupid. _And_ she wouldn't drool when she slept."

"Oh, so that's your problem? I _drool_?"

"Yeah, sure, that's it," Zuko snaps sarcastically. "Agni."

"Well if you were a romance scroll hero you would kiss me right now."

"Well I'm not a romance scroll hero."

"Aaargh!"

Almost an hour later, the library is in total disarray. The priceless Earth Kingdom rug is burned to an absolute crisp, most of the scrolls are waterlogged, one of the expensive glass paned windows is shattered beyond repair, and the walls are pierced with several very large icicles. Katara is giggling breathlessly as she clings to Zuko.

"God, we haven't had such a good fight in ages," she pants.

He wraps a tight arm around her shaking form. A smile tugs at his lips, unbidden. "Yeah. Truce?"

"Truce," she agrees.

They start to walk of the library, pausing when Zuko stops to say, "Hey, why should have a romance scroll hero kiss the heroine when they're arguing?"

Katara groans. "Because, Zuko, it's _romantic_."

"Sounds kind of fishy to me," he says. She smacks him upside the head, but she doesn't slip out of his hold, which, he figures, is progress.


	5. under the fireworks

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Notes:** I know what you're thinking. "Hasn't it been a over year since she updated this?" Why yes, fair reader, yes it has.

**Chapter: **5/6

* * *

**year five**

_the time he doesn't kiss her under the fireworks_

* * *

The sky is exploding with color above them―flowers and dragons and odd little stars coming out to play. Children shriek with delight and shove each other as they try for a nonexistent better view. Adults alternate between fondly watching the children and gazing with jaded eyes at the fireworks. Teenagers make out like the world is coming to an absolute end. Zuko weaves skillfully through the crowd―the children and the adults and the teenagers―and thanks Agni that he thought to put on a cloak that keeps him from being mobbed by fangirls.

Just as he finishes his prayer of gratitude, a rather feminine hand grabs his upper arm. It's a strong enough grip to stop his progress. Which is worrisome, really. He glances at the hand holding his bicep, and instantly recognizes the long pale fingers of his ex girlfriend.

"Mai," he exclaims, turning in the direction of the arm so delicately attached to the hand still on his bicep. She is half hidden by the shifting crowd. She tugs on his arm, and he obligingly follows. She leads him through the crowd, out toward the very edges of the gathering.

When she stops, the noise is not quite so overpowering and the crush of people is not nearly as bad. The lighting is worse, but he can see her well enough. A little taller than she last was, a little less angular. Her celebratory Fire Nation style dress is a brilliant emerald green that looks very flattering on her. "Why are you wearing green?" he asks before he can stop himself.

What happens next almost gives him a heart attack. She _laughs_. Not a little dry chuckle like she used to sometimes give him, but a full blown _laugh_. He's never heard anything like that come out of her mouth ever before, not even when they were small children who had all the reason in the world to laugh, and it stuns him. "Uh…" he says.

She shakes her head and releases his arm. Her laughter finally dies, but now that he's looking he can see that she does not fade back to blank. There is still amusement tugging at her lips and lighting up her eyes. It's so strange.

"What a nice way to greet me after six years apart," Mai says. Her voice and humor are as dry as ever. But there's no mistaking how teasing she looks, or the very soft lilt to her voice that bespeaks of a very human quality she used to lack.

"You're…uh…" Zuko tries.

"In green."

"Happy."

She looks a little self conscious at that. "I guess…Haru…he's been good for me. Really patient."

Zuko understands the unspoken. Haru had managed to wait her out, to gently provoke emotion instead of overtly demanding it like Zuko had done. Instead of feeling jealous, Zuko feels glad that Mai has found someone who apparently understands her so well.

"That's good," he says. More to reassure her than himself. No hard feelings. He can't make himself say those words but he thinks them at her as surely as he can.

"I figured it would be," she says. He cocks his head to the side in silent question. Her smile is slow and smug, curling up at the edges into something that is nearly predatory. "Everyone in the Four Nations is taking bets about how long it will be before you finally crack and marry Katara."

Zuko blinks a couple of times in utter disbelief. His mind seems to misfire a few times, trying to come up with some suitable response to this announcement. Despite his brilliance, despite his training, despite everything, all he can come up with is incoherent "huhwha?" style answers. "What?" he squeaks. He thinks to himself that at least that sounded coherent, if not particularly impressive.

One of Mai's elegant black eyebrows rises tauntingly. "Oh? You mean you hadn't heard? The rumor mill is quite full of news about your relationship with her and how it might or might not be progressing. In the Earth Kingdom they're just waiting for the news of the engagement to come. I do believe that some people actually have party supplies on hand for it."

"No, no, no, no," Zuko says quickly, waving his hands in front of his chest. His mind unwillingly blinks over every scenario it can come up with that involves Katara and marriage. Most of them, he'll add, are not fit for polite company. "We're not like that."

Mai's eyebrows rise past her bangs, something that Zuko only recalls happening once before when he forgot his own birthday. "Not getting engaged yet?" she asks.

"No, not, um," he pauses, a blush suffusing his cheeks, "romantic."

"Why not?" Mai asks, all polite, friendly curiousity even as her eyebrows seem to inch ever higher. "You two have always been very well suited."

"Who's always been well suited?" And Zuko knows that voice, instinctively, distorted through the crowds and the roar of the fireworks and distracted as he is by Mai. Katara. He sends up prayers to Agni, as many as he can manage as quickly as he can, that Mai will _not_ answer that question.

She doesn't. Instead, she distracts Katara with small talk about what they've both been up to the past few years. The chatting is light and breezy as can be, but Zuko notices the wariness in Katara's gaze. Barely a minute into the talk she wraps her arms around Zuko's waist and lays her head against his chest. This gives him something to do, so Zuko just drapes an arm over her shoulder and listens to the meandering chat, adding in noncommittal grunts when needed. It works quite well for him.

Right up until Mai gives him an all knowing smirk and says, "Well, I have to be going. The last fireworks are supposed to start soon. Haru and I never miss them. It's so romantic."

Katara smiles sweetly, wishes Mai well, and then tugs Zuko away into the crowds. Zuko follows, because what else can he do? She drags him straight through the crowds to a pavilion on the other side, a pavilion that is mostly empty since it affords no view of the fireworks.

He notices the light scowl too late. By then, she is already turning and _scowling_. "Why were you talking to her?" Katara snaps. "I thought you were over her."

"I am," Zuko says defensively. "We haven't been together for six years, Katara. We were just catching up."

That doesn't calm her and she crosses her arms, eyes narrowing further. "So who are you well suited for, then? If not her? Hah. I bet she was trying to convince you to go kiss Ty Lee under the fireworks, wasn't she?"

The ridiculousness of Katara's wild accusations is not lost on Zuko. But he honestly doesn't get why she's so up in arms about it. "She wasn't…" Zuko starts. He should make an attempt at protecting his ex girlfriend, he thinks. Too bad that his mind is still misfiring on just what he could say, not to mention that Katara doesn't really seem to care about whatever explanation he could bother to come up with.

"Ugh, stupid ostrich horse," Katara snaps, shoving at his shoulders. Then she's spinning and stalking away. Zuko gets a very strange sense of déjà vu as he chases after her. "I don't know why I put up with you and your stupidity. You'd think after eight _years_ you'd notice, but no, of course not. You're still panting after Mai who thinks you're suited for Ty Lee. You _aren't _though so _don't _go getting any ideas."

Her stalking away leads them into the alley just behind the pavilion. He snags the sleeve of her blue kimono and forces her to a halt. "Katara," he says as patiently as he can, "I don't want Mai, or Ty Lee."

Katara eyes him suspiciously. "Who do you want then?"

Zuko isn't answering that. "I'm not answering that."

She growls and stomps her foot. "Then let go of me, you stupid ostrich horse."

"Stop calling me that."

"No, I won't. Not until you tell me who she was talking about! Ostrich horse, ostrich horse, ostrich hor―"

"You! She was talking about you, damn it. Now stop calling me that." Zuko likes to think he managed all that with great aplomb. The truth of the matter is he's bright red and shifty eyed when he spouts all that, his voice a little wobbly but defiant nonetheless.

"Oh," she says, all fire gone from her voice. He chances a glance at her and finds her looking at him with soft eyes, a becoming blush tinting her cheeks, lips tilted into a gentle smile. It's still kind of scary to him how she can go from hellfire to burbling stream in the space of about ten seconds.

"Yeah," he says, voice even wobblier with the extreme awkwardness of the moment.

Above them, the biggest, brightest, best, _last_ fireworks begin to explode in brilliant color. Katara glances up and then back down at him, her blush intensifying. Is it Zuko's imagination or did she just inch closer?

Her blue eyes are practically glowing under the light of a thousand million fireworks. Zuko thinks that she might be the most beautiful thing he's ever seen even if she is completely terrifying.

"Um, hey, you want to go get some shaved ice?" he squeaks.

Her scowl is back in an instant. "Stupid ostrich horse," she says, but then she softens again. The fireworks still light her up and make her eyes glow, but she seems…defeated, instead of hopeful. Zuko wonders what exactly is going on with her. He doesn't get too much time to wonder though, because she just smiles a bit, holds out her hand, and says, "Yeah, c'mon, let's get some shaved ice."


	6. finally

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Avatar the Last Airbender.

**Notes:** The grand finale, over two years after it was started. It's a bit sad that it took this long, but I learned my lesson about multichaptered gift fics. (Which is: don't do them.) Also, Legend of Korra has officially made this into impossibility. So it's kind of a fuck you to the Kataang sentiments of the world.

**Chapter: **6/6

* * *

**year six**

_the time he kisses her_

* * *

Her hair sways as she walks, a brown waterfall of tumbling curls and waves that are unlike anything you would see in the Fire Nation, something strangely reminiscent of her element. It's longer than it was when he first saw her, and it was quite long then. Hip length, if he remembers right, which maybe he doesn't. Now it reaches to her mid thigh when unbound, and he is torn between wanting to tangle his fingers in it and begging her to cut some of it off because really that much hair must be some sort of liability in a fight. It's not so bad when it's all bound up in braids and loops and elaborate twists, kept up and away and neat. He doesn't notice so much then, it's easy to think about how she needs to cut it for the sake of practicality. But now it's dark in the Ember Island beach house, and she is wearing only her underthings, and that beautiful mass of hair is completely undone. And he thinks it is not so much a liability as a temptation, a disastrous, wonderful temptation.

"Zuko, are you coming?" A stage whisper, supposed to be quiet but loud so that it can be heard, ineffective and dumb but coming from her strangely endearing. His eyes flick up from her hair to her face, which is turned slightly to look at him as she keeps walking.

"Yes, _Katara_," he says, trying to sound defensive. It's strange that he should be _trying _to sound defensive, when for so long he worked at not caring enough to sound so. But now he needs to, he can't sound like he did just then: sleepy 'you just woke me up to go for a midnight swim' adoration. He should sound grumpy, defensive, tired, upset. Not like he's secretly sort of pleased that she came to him to take care of this sudden desire to play in her element.

However he may or may not sound, she doesn't do anything more than roll her eyes and walk a bit faster toward the double door entrance just down the hall from their current location. He lengthens his strides to catch up, an easy feat. He hit a growth spurt just before he turned eighteen, and he kind of likes how he towers over everyone now, even Aang who also had an immense growth spurt. She glances at him sideways when he pulls even with her, but doesn't say anything as she pushes the doors open.

Night air, tinged heavy with salt and recent rain and heat and flowering night booms, floods in towards them even as they rush out. She outright runs down the stairs, headed for the beach at a rate of speed he's never seen her take before. It's almost insane, break neck, and she's graceful but he sees how she has to quickly correct her balance a few times which means she may be insane and getting ready to break her neck. Maybe it's the full moon doing this to her, or the incoming tide, or the damn air.

Zuko sighs and shakes his head, closing the doors behind him quietly. The wood porch creaks underneath his feet. He remembers how last summer several of the courtiers tried to convince him to get it replaced with the marble that was becoming all the rage. How Katara had smiled at him and told him not to do it, that wood was classic, that he didn't need some cheap trend, that she'd seen how he'd lie out on the porch for hours watching the waves come in and tracing patterns on the wood. And honestly, he sat out there because he wanted to watch something that reminded him of her, and it wouldn't make a whit of difference if his seat was weathered planks or polished marble, but her pleading smile was all he needed. Stupid boy, to be so taken in with a pretty smile.

(But she's not just a pretty smile, she's a hand taking his when he's scared to face his sister, she's a voice whispering encouragement as he gets ready to go face the council, she's a laugh at the banquet when he is awkward, she's a fleeting kiss on the cheek before he has to go talk to the refugees, she is his sanity with a blue eyed quicksilver soul.)

He follows after her now, his feet hitting the sand in a steady rhythm that is not her pell-mell speed of earlier but gets him down to the shoreline quickly enough. A shell bites into the instep of his foot briefly and he lets out a quiet curse while side hopping before he keeps going. No blood mars the sand behind him and the sting fades so he's probably okay. But still, that was too much pain to justify the current situation.

"Katara," he says, and his voice is just a touch exasperated as he sees what she's doing. Which is sitting in the shallows of the water, a large pout on her lips that is visible even from his position. She said she wanted to swim, which would be acceptable enough, save for the fact that all she is doing now is sitting. That could have been accomplished just as well in a tub. A tub, which wouldn't have involved dragging him out of bed and out onto a beach where a seashell would hurt his foot. "What's wrong?"

"I'm tired," she says tremulously, and he realizes that perhaps her pout is not so much of a pout as it is a trembling lower lip from trying to hold back tears. He can't really tell, the full moon's light is not that bright, but he walks closer and crouches down in the water beside her. The lapping waves are cold, not frigid, but definitely enough to finish waking him up. He touches her shoulder and is surprised at how icy it feels. She flinches away from him and something, probably heartbreak, stabs at him in the gut. He lets his hand drop to his side.

"Tired of what?" He tilts his head to the side and tries to think of what she could possibly mean, because if she is merely physically tired why did she run down here, why did she come outside in the first place, why is she not tucked safely into the plush bed in her suite?

"It's been nine years, Zuko. _Nine_. I'm twenty-four. I'm the world's greatest waterbender, the best healer in both Water Tribes, and a hero from the 100 Year's War. But I'm tired. I'm lonely." She looks at him, her eyes wide and brimming with unshed tears. He winces. He never was good at dealing with her tears. Mostly, it just makes him want to kill something.

"Katara," he begins. Her lower lip trembles harder. "Katara," he says more firmly, "you're strong and brave and wonderful and more beautiful than you realize. I know that I've been selfish, keeping you in the Fire Nation…" And he realizes abruptly that he doesn't know where to go from there, doesn't know what else to say to her. Apologize for his selfishness, for the fact that so long as she is willing he wants her as near to him as he can have? Beg her to stay forever, to keep being his best friend while he tries futilely to be her everything so she will always be smiling? Tell her he will let her go, so she can find someone who truly does make her happy and can give her everything she's ever wanted and needed?

She shakes her head, laughing a little. Her hands, lithe hands with long fingers, ball up into fists and she rubs her eyes with them. "Don't worry, I'm just being silly. The truth is that I'm happy where I am. I don't want to go anywhere else. I just wish…"

"Anything."

"What?" Her blue eyes are large in the night, light reflected from the moon and the waves giving them a sort of glow he's never really noticed before this moment. A sort of desperation sets into his stomach, or maybe his heart, or maybe his entire being. If she will stay with him, if she will be herself by his side, then he will give her anything.

"Anything you want, I'll try to give it to you."

"You're being ridiculous."

"Probably," he admits. Because probably he is. What could he have that she would want? She's not the sort to desire material wealth. Everything he has worth offering her, is already hers. Given thoughtlessly, adoringly, years and years ago.

"Anything?" Katara looks thoughtful now. Like she is actually considering this. It's enough to give him hope, and hope is all he really needs.

"Anything."

White teeth worry her lower lip, and finally she shakes her head very slowly, as if forcing herself to forget a thought that had been plaguing her mind. "There's nothing I'd ask you for, Zuko. You have others to think about, not just me."

He thinks he knows what she's thinking of, courtiers and diplomats and nobles and treaties, but he's not sure why she thinks they are important. Not when it comes to her. He wouldn't throw his kingdom for a woman, but he might make an exception for Katara. And she looks so heartbroken but resolute, because she knows that he loves the Fire Nation more than anything (except her but she doesn't know that) and even though he has no idea what was going through her head she's placing him and his country ahead of herself like she always, always does. He thinks of her smiling at the market outside the palace as he buys her leechi nuts and how she laughs brightly when she goes to the orphanages and the way that even though she is so Water Tribe that sometimes it hurts the people look at her with the same sort of unwavering devotion that they look at him. He thinks of all of that, and he sees the tears welling up in her eyes again, and he does the only thing he can possibly think to do.

There's warmth spreading through his veins, stronger and more potent than even seeing the secret of the dragons. There's a soft sigh because he realizes this is exactlywhat he was supposed to do six years ago on a beach, and all these times after between whenever. There's the way she pushes closer to him, gripping onto his shoulders with such force that he can imagine the bruises forming. There's how the water is getting higher around their sitting forms with the incoming tide and how his pants are soaked. There's an intense feeling of home.

He pulls away slowly and then breathes a quiet, "I love you." The smile she gives him is dazzling, delirious, and beautiful. So fucking beautiful. So he kisses her again, and the world is quiet, and he is _home_.


End file.
